Our Gentle Sins
by AsYouAre
Summary: When putting an outlaw and an evil queen together, being good isn't so easy. Regina Mills and Robin Hood find that out rather quickly when fate throws them together for an entire year. Will being good get too tiring for them? And if so, how long will it take before they give into their deadliest sins?


_**A/N:**_ _So, I got a prompt requesting jealous OQ and as my brain always does, it decided that it wanted to make it more than a simple one shot because, well, it just does. I couldn't resist. Therefore, I would like to present to you the seven deadly sins of outlaw queen._

 _Each sin will be featured as a one shot, set in various parts of the Missing Year. Each of the shots will be posted on the second Sunday of every month until it's over._

 _I just want to give a big thank you to Elisa for the inspiration and to Nicole for just being there through it all as she always is. Ok! So here's to the next seven months (well, six now)! Let me know what you think!_

* * *

It's late, or early, perhaps, but she doesn't really care about the time. Either way, she's up at an hour she shouldn't be, roaming about the castle, a custom for her ever since they returned. She's never really been much of a heavy sleeper anyway. Back in Storybrooke, she was constantly up, passing the nights wide awake, often checking on Henry, to see if he was okay. Not unlike her Storybrooke life, Henry is still, at least, part of the reason why she's up at the moment.

She can't stop replaying the scene at the town line, over and over again, in her head. Watching as Emma's (ugly) yellow bug rolled carefully over the line as purple smoke whisked the rest of them back to the Enchanted Forest. She often has to coach herself into believing that it was the right thing to do. Letting Henry (and even Emma) go over the town line was a necessary sacrifice because the whole thing could've gone far worse. She _had_ to do it.

That doesn't make the ache in her heart any easier, though. No, the pain is still there, wracking every single one of her limbs. She tries to ignore it but it's in every thing that she does, so how can she? And to make matters worse, it feels as if she's the only one feeling the loss. Of course the Charmings' miss their daughter and grandson, she's sure, but they don't really talk about it. If anything, Snow White tries to be as chipper as possible, acting as though not a thing in the world is bothering her. Regina knows that it's just a cover up but she doesn't want to be the only one with her heart on her sleeve.

As the past few months have ticked by, though, it seems that she is the only one who does.

She thinks of leaving every now and again but something holds her back, something nags at her heart to stay with these insipid people, to tolerate them. It could be because, technically, they're all she has left, like it or not, but Regina doesn't want to think about that. Considering the possibility that this might just be her dead end, with no way out, could kill her.

So, in that case, perhaps consideration isn't so bad after all.

The absence of her son, however, is not exactly the only reason that she is awake now. She is starving, a rare occurrence for her because she seems to have lost her appetite ever since their return, but she'd skipped dinner tonight, surprisingly without reprimand from the princess, in order to look into her spell books more, something she's done quite often once they discovered the Wicked Witch is the one terrorizing them. But now the empty pangs in her stomach are just about to drive her to madness, so much so, that she cannot concentrate on her plots to destroy her (no longer, unfortunately, long lost) sister, which is why she's quietly ambling down the hall to the kitchen. She's not entirely sure that there's anything resembling a snack there because, frankly, the food in the Enchanted Forest is not as delectable or reusable as in the Land without Magic. Nothing a little magic can't fix, though.

She wonders, as she voyages down the dimly lit passages, how the others can sleep so soundly—well, sans that one dwarf that seems to _only_ have the ability to sleep. With everything going on, how is there time to sleep? She's also curious if her sister shares her trait of sleeplessness. Does she, too, lie awake throughout the nights, even if it's just to think of nothing?

Regina knows she shouldn't fret over such silly things, especially when there's no way in hell she's going to cooperate peacefully with her sister ever, but curiosity often gets the better of her. Truthfully, Zelena might be the only person who understands her, as far as, adopting the DNA of Cora Mills. Then again, Zelena never had to experience their mother's cruelty every day.

On that, there is no one who will ever understand her.

As Regina is rounding the corner to the hall that contains the kitchen, she hears a loud clatter coming from the very room that she is headed toward. She freezes, pulse instantly quickening.

There's no one awake right now. No one would ever be up this late; she knows this, because out of the few months that they've been back at the castle, she's yet to have come across anyone else in her late night strolls. But someone is in there. Maybe her assumption that she and her sister are alike in certain ways is true and Zelena managed her way in, while the rest of the castle sleeps soundly. But Zelena isn't stupid; she'd never break into the castle, regardless, because she knows it's a veritable way to get caught.

However, that wouldn't stop her from sending one of her simian minions, which would also explain why it's in the kitchen and not yet out trying to hurt anyone within the castle.

Regina knows that she should probably go get help but she isn't terribly afraid of the creature residing inside. However, she approaches with caution and very quietly conjures up a fireball to rest in her palm, in case she does need to attack. The roaring of her heartbeat is all that she can hear (perhaps she's a bit more afraid than she'd like to admit), making it impossible to be sure if she hears another noise within the room.

She finally stirs up enough courage within her to jump in front of the doorway and call out, "Show yourself, you winged freak!"

But it is not a winged monkey that jumps into her line of sight but, rather, an incredibly stupid and clumsy thief, the very thief who's been the bane of her existence ever since their return. He blinks at her stupidly for a moment, gathering her into view.

"Regina?" He squints his eyes a bit, as if still trying to be certain of who it is. Fair enough, it is quite dark everywhere.

She straightens, then, and does away with the fireball, which she immediately regrets because now is the opportune time to char him to a crisp and make it look like a total accident. Instead, she examines him from head to foot, taking in his slightly tousled brown hair, his augmented worry lines and sadder lightning blue eyes, and lastly a large, dirty beige colored tunic draped over even dirtier brown trousers. He's upset about something, she can tell, which is exactly why she cannot be annoyed with him at the moment, but that doesn't stop her snark.

"How many times must I tell you thief? It's Your Majesty and you will do well to remember that," she quips as she brushes past him into the kitchen and begins to forage through the cabinets before she adds, "I hope you're usually better at thievery than this. The poor would probably go hungry then."

"Wasn't stealing," he shrugs, swaggering back toward where she was crouched in front of a lower cabinet that bore no fruit, let alone anything else. He hovers above her, watching her scavenge the shelf for anything easy and readily edible.

"If you were coming to take food from this kitchen, then yes, that constitutes as stealing," she reprimands into the cabinet, her voice reverberating off its walls and probably intensifying the sound.

"And what, exactly, are you doing now then?"

She's learned his face well enough, that she can already envision the self-satisfied smirk that he always wears, which he shows in particularly grand fashion when he thinks he's bested Regina, and he doesn't disappoint when she peers up at him.

She should've stuck with the fireball.

"I can't steal from myself," she rolls her eyes at the fact that he's so dense, unable to understand that this is her castle, her stuff. Or maybe he just chooses to be that ignorant, solely to drive her crazy.

He gives off a soft chuckle, "True, but what about the poor, then? Will they not go hungry?"

"I'm not going to eat the entire kitchen," she snaps and then diverts into something else because he's already trying her patience. Not to mention, she can tell he's troubled by something and this was possible a route to finding out what, without sounding overtly concerned. "What are you doing here anyway, thief?"

"Roland," he responds simply, staring off at a small hole on the wall, chasing after his thoughts, which must have escaped through there.

Her eyebrows immediately furrow. Robin Hood's child has undeniably settled himself right in the core of Regina Mills' heart. She knew from the moment that she swept him up during their trek to the castle when the monkey attacked, that he was going to have an impact, and just like his father, he's ever as predictable. Every time that she's seen him flashing his dimples and batting his thick eyelashes, her whole being nearly melts into a puddle.

He isn't a fix to her loss over Henry, but he certainly patched up the hole a good bit. He makes her feel warm and fills the void that echoes in her heart, and she rather enjoys caring for him, protecting him, and watching after him. She relishes also in every moment they spend together, allowing for that warmth that he emanates from his heart to enrapture her inside of it.

Oddly enough, Roland might just be the only real friend she has at the castle. She's not really sure what that says about her, but it's nevertheless true, and frankly, she doesn't have a problem with it at all. Now if only his father would learn to be as endearing.

"He gets night terrors," he finally adds to the silence. "He can't fully sleep when he has them. I got him back to sleep before I came down here but I know he'll be awake again soon."

Her mind flashes to a memory she has of Roland sleepily scrubbing his lids with his fists at dinner one night and she'd reached out to him, pulling him into her lap where she let him curl up and fall asleep. But Robin Hood hadn't let that last for long. Soon he was crossing over to them, pulling Roland up so that his arms linked around his father's neck, and then they filed out of the Hall without a word. The thief had returned moments later without Roland, to give a quick message to his giant, curly headed friend, before stalking out once more.

Regina had never really given any thought to the possibility that there may have been some reasoning behind it. She thinks she feels her heart chip a little bit at the idea that such a sweet and adorably innocent child wakes in the middle of the night fearful and fitful over something that is out of his control, and yet, also isn't real but manages to consume him, all the same.

She settles into a full frown, then. Henry often had nightmares growing up, the thought of this only deepens her woe. She wishes they were with her now, both Roland and Henry, so that she could soothe both their troubles, so that she could kiss away their pain, but both are away from her, one far off in another realm and another (hopefully!) sleeping across the castle.

A warranted apology slips from her lips, not that it's her that needs to be vindicated, but she feels like someone should apologize for the little boy's troubles.

"Not your fault," he mumbles as he opens a cabinet above her, pressing his legs into her backside so that he could get closer. "Now, I'm just trying to find something that will remind me of this recipe my wife used to make for bad dreams, but I can't seem to remember." He's pouting when she finally and very uncomfortably cranes her neck to look up at him.

"Has Roland had them his whole life?"

Robin Hood sighs. "Just about, but they weren't bad until Marian died, then after a little while they went away. I thought we were rid of them once and for all but when the whole… flying ape thing occurred—"

He needn't finish because she's nodding in comprehension. Roland's nightmares were once again in full force after his inadvertent attack.

She muses then, trying to think of what she used as remedies for Henry when he woke up with a nightmare. Given, they were remedies from the Land without Magic, but she has no clue on any belonging to the Enchanted Forest.

Peanut butter and jelly with a glass of milk.

That usually always did the trick. She'd make a sandwich for them both, then give him half a glass of milk while she drank tea. He was usually out by the time he was a little over three-fourths of the way done with his sandwich and drained his milk glass entirely. A gentle smile creeps on her lips as she remembers his top lids slowly drooping until they met with his bottom ones, and she'd scurry over before he fell out of his chair, pick him up, the way the thief had with Roland that one time in the Hall, then carry him to bed, tucking him safely away and placing one final kiss upon his forehead.

"I have an idea," she tells Robin Hood. It is a sacred secret that she will only share with him because it is necessary—from one parent to another.

"Oh?" he moves away so that she can rise and face him.

"Come with me." She leads them over to an island on the far side of the kitchen where she pauses and instructs him, instead, to return back over to the other side to retrieve a loaf of bread, which he does, placing it onto the island when he returns. She looks at it and waves her hand so that it morphs into a loaf of sliced bread.

The thief's eyes grow big in bewilderment and he stammers out, "H-h-how did you—what is that?"

"It's bread."

He shakes his head, staring closely at it as if he can change it back himself. "Yes, but it didn't look like that a moment ago."

"Because I changed it," she informs him needlessly, as if he can't deduce that himself.

He huffs out agitatedly in response because he isn't stupid, and she knows that, but something about him makes it almost too easy. "Yes, I realize, just tell me what it's for."

"PB&J."

"PB-what?"

"It's a sandwich, now go look in the cabinet and see if there's any jam."

He doesn't ask any more questions. "As you wish, Your Majesty," he mocks and does a deep bow.

"Insolence will get you nowhere, thief," she answers tersely as he beings to walk away.

But then he stops in his tracks and turns to face her again, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking in just the way she hates, "And demands will get you nowhere, Your Majesty."

Regina swears that the thief is simply there to make her angry and, unfortunately, he nearly succeeds every time. Over the past few months, he's discovered nearly all of her buttons and just how to push them in order to piss her off. She feels her fists clench but she reminds herself that there is a little boy somewhere who could wake up at any moment and realize that Daddy is not around, then get all upset again. She decides to gain her composure instead and politely smiles at him while hissing through her teeth, "Thief, will you get the jam out of the cupboard?"

His reaction is one where he leans forward, as though waiting for her to say something else. She knows what he wants her to say and there's certainly no chance of that happening, so she merely keeps her lips pressed together tightly. It's to no avail, though, as he just stands there as well, staring at her with an eyebrow raised and his arms still crossed.

"Do you want to help your son or not?" she tries.

His face falls into a grimace. She'd like to relish in it but the worry sneaks back upon his visage and her pride withers away. Regina nearly regrets not saying _please_ as he snaps around on his heels, muttering something that sounded like curses under his breath, but the stream of words stop as soon as he returns to her and extends a jar of grape jam.

Henry always loved strawberry.

She sits it on the island, then looks at her ingredients. "Okay one last ingredient." She raises her hand but hesitates and looks up at the thief. "Can you do one more thing?"

"What's that?"

"Will you get a knife out of that drawer right there?" she gestures beside him. "A dull one."

He doesn't wait for her to say please this time and proceeds with his task as Regina finally waves her hand and a jar of peanut butter appears in front of her.

When Robin Hood, once again, returns to his post, he looks down at the jar of peanut butter, puzzled. He points to it. "And what is that?"

"Peanut butter."

"Peanut… butter," he repeats, slowly, with a questioning undertone.

She lets out a noise of light frustration, not at the thief but at her inability to figure out some way to explain it exactly. "It's like peanut… paste like peanuts are ground together," she demonstrates with her hands, "and made into this paste that feels like butter. It's difficult to explain."

"Who grounds them?" he asks curiously.

A soft chuckle releases itself from her, "Well, in our world, it's more than likely done by a machine."

Our world? When did it become that?

"Remarkable," he gazes admirably at the jar, then back up at Regina.

She is rather fond of his fascination and finds it nearly impossible not to smile at him. There's a strong urge burning inside her to tell him all about the Land without Magic and mostly Storybrooke. But why does it matter? There is no such thing as Storybrooke anymore and the rest of the Land without Magic is far out of her reach.

She can feel hot tears prick at the back of her eyes. Great, all she needs to do is start crying in front of the thief, giving him a one way ticket into her business. In an attempt to divert her thoughts, she clears her throat and looks back at the island with all her ingredients accounted for to make a delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

She picks out six slices of bread—one for her, one for Roland, and one for the thief.

"Now, hand me that knife," she says as she reaches out for it and gives without argument. "Can you open the peanut butter and jam?"

He does as she sets the six slices out in an even row.

"Okay…" she begins, lifting her face back in time just to catch the thief dipping his (surely very dirty) finger into the jar of peanut butter. "Hey!" she cries out.

It's too late, though. His finger is already digging into the substance and lifting out. She watches furiously, in what feels like slow motion, as he raises the finger to his mouth, his tongue flicking out to meet it and lap up the peanut butter.

Regina can't deny where her imagination leads, with the lengths at which that tongue can go and probably have gone. Not to mention, her mouth is suddenly watering at the sight and she's positive that the peanut butter has little to do with that. Her own tongue darts out to wet her lips and bite down hard onto her bottom one. But her act of lust is short lived because his eyes widen and he's suddenly exclaiming how delicious the treat is.

She grounds her thoughts and attempts to keep her irritation at bay. "Have you lost your mind, thief?!"

"Oh, I apologize for my moment of greed, Your Majesty; would you like some?" he's asking as he his finger, once again, dips into the jar while Regina yells out in protest. Not only because he's put his saliva covered finger back into the jar, but because he's now shoving said peanut butter and saliva covered finger in her face.

She jumps backward with a shaky _oh no_ as a devious grin slides onto the face of her opponent. He's inching closer to her as she backs away into the little space that she has. "Thief," she warns, "if you touch me with that, it will be the last thing you do, I swear."

But he does not falter and only closes the gap between them a little bit more. She scans the kitchen for a point of escape but she knows that the thief's legs are long enough that he'll catch up with her easily. However, that doesn't discourage her from trying. She runs over to the opposite wall on her side of the room, half-running along the length of it to the far side of the kitchen with the cabinets. Yet Robin Hood is still right on her tail, so she bolts back again in the other direction, a squeal of some sort escaping her as she goes and he gets even closer. She clings onto the island and squares off with him. The mischief dancing in his eyes is frightening, yet entirely enticing.

Her breathing is labored and something is caught in her throat and she's smiling, really smiling. She can feel the ache in her cheeks from it. They do a dance around the island for several minutes, jumping between sides.

"You will regret this," she tells him.

But he only shakes his head and moves to one side of the island which she immediately gets away from.

"You realize you're going to lose?" he laughs.

"Not unless I kill you first," she fires back quickly.

"Death threats, Your Majesty, over a sandwich? How very un-regal of you."

She grits her teeth, "It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

But it is not one that she will get to make because the thief's hand settles on the counter, knocking the knife upon it to the ground and causing Regina's eyes to chase after it. It's a mistake, a fault in her plan as that's when he uses his chance to finally come around the island. It is too late for her to make a move other than to dart around the island but it will be useless, especially seeing how it takes him mere seconds to pin her against it, their bodies pressed firmly together, without a sliver of space in between.

"No!" she pleads as his finger dangles in front of her. "Don't! Thief, you don't want to do this! This is a mistake!" She continually spews out desperate cries for him to stop but he just keeps dangling it closer to her nose.

But all it takes is two syllables to stop him. "ROB-IN!" she whines.

The exclamation caught them both off guard, giving them each a moment of pause. She hadn't even realized that his name was on the tip of her tongue during the entire exchange, but now it is out there, hanging in the brutally deafening silence. It is a rather large step. Regina had never called the thief by name, ever, not to him, not to any of the other members of the castle, not even to herself. But now she has, in the very tiny bit of breathing room left between their faces.

Once he's seemingly processed what she said, in full, that dreaded smirk graces his features once more, "What did you call me?" he asks smugly.

She's at a loss over what to say. She doesn't know why she did it; it just happened. However, when she glances at the jar of peanut butter right beside her, an idea flashes into her mind. "Don't be too excited thief, I did it on purpose." She takes his brow lift as means to continue with her plot, "To distract you so I can do this." Then in one fell swoop, she scoops up a glob of peanut butter into her forefinger and smudges it into his beard and the uses the opportunity of his surprise to duck out of his trap to rush to the other side of the kitchen, but it doesn't take long before he's chuckling out an 'oh no, no, no, no, no' and taking long strides to catch back up with her so that he can wrap his arms around her waist. He uses his right arm to tether her to him, keeping her backside pressed firmly into his front.

Is the kitchen getting warmer?

His left hand is back in front of her face, hovering just above her nose. "Prepared for your payback, Your Majesty?"

"Don't," she demands shortly one last time, despite its futility.

"Then make a deal with me," he breathes into her ear in a way that sends shivers down her spine.

But she refuses to submit to his charm so she gives a flat, "What?"

"Say my name again," his breath skims her ear again. It is burning up. "But not just now. All the time. From now on, I am simply Robin, not 'Thief.' Just Robin."

"Like hell," she scoffs and he subsequently inches his finger closer. Damn it. "Okay, okay, okay, fine but I'd like to make an amendment."

"Wait, the queen knows how to compromise?"

"Shut up. Look I will call you that, if it is only in private. I call you that to you and to you alone. Do we have a deal?" She can't see his face because of their position but she takes his silence to mean that he's mulling it over.

"Fine," he finally caves after a small silence. "I can handle that for now."

"You better handle that forever because that's all you're getting," she scolds. "Now can you let me go?"

"Right, yeah."

He releases his grip on her and she feels her heart lurch ever so slightly, missing the warmth of his touch.

"Okay, now go get another knife since you dropped the other one."

He waits as he did before but this wasn't for a pleasantry. He wants to hear his name.

She musters enough toleration to roll her eyes and grumble, "Will you get another knife… Robin?"

He smiles genially and does as he's told. He's won, they both know it. And she'll let him have this win, just this once.

Regina, then, shows him how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He watches with admiration, chin resting in palm as she slathers the peanut butter and jelly onto the bread, eventually leading to three scrumptious looking sandwiches. She wraps his and Roland's in a cloth so that he doesn't accidentally drop them on his journey back.

"So that's it?" he asks as she swipes her hand, her magic returning the necessities to their respective places, except for the peanut butter which she whisks to an upper unused cabinet so that no one will find it.

"That's it."

"Amazing. You're sure you don't want me to eat here with you?" he offers.

She just shakes her head. "No, it's fine. Besides, you and Roland should share this new adventure together."

He reaches over and places his hand atop hers. "Thank you."

"Of course." She slips her hand from beneath his, then walks over to the doorway. Truthfully, if she spends any longer with the thief, she knows she'll want him to stay, but she just cannot have that.

He walks over to the door with her and does a once over, laughing incredibly softly.

"What?"

"You've got a little peanut butter on your face, m'lady."

She doesn't know how or when it got there, although she imagines that the thief accidentally got some on her, but her wrath abates because it's not about how it got there anymore, but rather how it's being taken off. Robin Hood's lips are making a slow descent to the apple of her cheek where the streak of peanut butter resides. Her breath hitches sharply, as he trails his tongue along that streak and Regina is certain the area between her thighs is suddenly a lot slicker than when she first entered the kitchen. There's no way she's attracted to him. No way. But her body begs to differ. She finds herself begging then, desperate for him to stop so that she can stop feeling whatever it is that she's feeling.

It's as if he hears her thoughts because his tongue is no longer on her cheek but rather his warm lips pressing a soft and sincere kiss to her cheekbone. He lingers momentarily, allowing for her eyelids to flutter shut. But it, nevertheless, is still brief, ending in seconds with Robin stepping backward, locking eyes with Regina, skyrocketing her heart right back into her throat, and then finishing with, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Regina," she corrects. "You may call me Regina—with the same stipulation."

He grins then, a big stupid grin that's almost more annoying than his cocky little smirk. "You've got a deal. Good night… Regina, and thank you again. Really. I'm forever in your debt."

"Well I'd do anything for Roland," she answers nonchalantly.

"And only for Roland." It isn't a question, but more like putting words in her mouth.

She nods in confirmation. "Only for Roland."

"We'll see about that," he says over his shoulder. "Goodnight, once more, Regina."

She hums, "Goodnight… Robin."

He turns to look at her, walking backward down the corridor, that big, fat smile still resting on his face. "Ah, a sound I'll never get tired of hearing."

Honestly, her either.


End file.
